The Prodigal Son
by FFcrazy15
Summary: The series never gave a good explanation on why Klinger suddenly quit cross-dressing after Radar left and he became company clerk. However, we do know he was a lapsed Roman Catholic, and if there's one thing Fr. Mulcahy knows, it's that in the end, a prodigal son nearly always comes home. Based off of Luke 15:17-24. F*L*O*C*K 4077 piece.


Disclaimer: don't own, don't profit, no copyright infringement intended. I also do not own the Bible verse at the end, which is Luke 15:17-24.

**M*A*S*H**

_ "__Magníficat ánima mea Dóminum. Et exsultávit spíritus meus: in Deo, salutári meo. Quia respéxit humilitátem ancíllæ suæ: ecce enim ex hoc beátam me dicent omnes generatiónes.-"_

The door opened suddenly, startling me from my readings. I closed the breviary with surprise as Klinger burst in, shutting the door quickly behind. His pink dress got stuck in the door- he'd dressed in uniform the first few days on his new job as clerk, but had gone back to cross-dressing as soon as he could get away with it- and he cursed under his breath, reopening it to pull the fabric through. The next moment, he saw me staring, and apologized for the profanity. "Sorry, Father."

"That's alright; what are you doing in here?" I said, a little confused. "Supper starts in a few minutes."

"Yeah, I know," he groused. "And if I go in there now I'll see Major Houlihan and then I'll really be in for it."

"Pardon?"

"Aw, I didn't get her requisition papers done yet. Been slacking off and now it's coming back around to bite me. I'm hiding from her now." He looked over, worried. "You won't kick me out, will you?"

"No, no… but I would recommend getting your work done, before she has the opportunity to violate the Fifth Commandment."

"Good idea." He peered out my window, as if searching for the blonde spitfire. When satisfied that she was nowhere in sight, he finally looked back over at me. "Oh, I interrupted your prayers, didn't I? Sorry 'bout that, Father; I just thought this'd be a good hiding place."

"That's alright. I was just doing Vespers." I chuckled and closed the breviary, deciding I'd finish after Klinger was on his way again. "How are you? Aside from the paperwork fiasco, I mean."

"Aside from that and being stuck halfway across the world? Actually not too bad. But I tell you, being a clerk is harder than it looks. It's crazy, all this stuff I never knew Radar was doing. You wouldn't believe the amount of wheedling and weaseling I've had to do to get what we need around here."

"Well, we're all very grateful for it."

"I wish," he said grumpily, sitting down heavily on the spare chair I usually used for confessions. "I'm not exactly doing a bang-up job, Father; I'm no Radar."

"No one is good at a new job right off the bat," I said sympathetically. "I remember the first official homily I ever gave, right after I was ordained; I was so nervous I dropped my notes, got it all out of order and made a real mess out of the whole thing."

"No kidding?"

I nodded, wincing even now at the catastrophe. "I couldn't even remember the order of the Ten Commandments."

"Ouch," he said, but his grin told me the little anecdote had given him some heart.

"You oughtn't be so hard on yourself," I told him. "You're not Radar, and Radar likewise was not you. Just because we miss him doesn't mean we think any less of you. Although of course we do miss him; the camp isn't the same without him."

"He was a better guy than I'll ever be, I can tell you that," Klinger agreed. "That kid could lift anyone's spirits." He looked over at me. "Why are some people like that, Father?"

"He was an innocent," I answered, speaking almost more to myself than to him. "It's a strong man, stronger than many of us realize, who can retain that innocence even surrounded by so much horror and ugliness."

"Yeah…" Klinger said quietly, looking down at the dirtied pink evening gown. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

We sat in silence for a long time. I began to pray in my heart for Radar, but much to my surprise I found my prayers being pulled in Klinger's direction. _Oh, Lord, help him speak what's on his heart,_ I prayed quietly._ Help me to help him, however You will it._

"What happens to us, Father?" he asked, almost immediately after I'd finished. "Why do some of us stay like Radar, and then others…?"

I shrugged slightly. "I suppose it's simply… how we choose to live, the virtues and vices we employ."

"Yeah," he said again, voice low. "I guess that makes sense."

Again, silence. I renewed my prayers. Finally, he said quite suddenly, "I don't like it, you know."

"Pardon?"

"Wearing dresses. I don't like it. But I gotta get out somehow, right? Is this way any worse than another way?"

I struggled to reply for a moment before I said, "Klinger, you know how I have to answer that."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. He looked over at me and said, "Father, it's not just that. Radar was one of the best friends I ever had, but now that he's gone, I… I'm angry. He has everything; what've I got? I mean, Laverne left me- she got the annulment and now she's marrying that back-stabbing chump I had the stupidity to call a friend- I've got no job, no family, no kids, no _nothing. _He's got everything to go home to, and I hate him for it." He fell silent for a moment, and then said slowly, "Why do I hate him for it? I should be happy for him, right?" He shook his head. "But I'm not. Why is that?"

"Jealousy is a… very strong emotion," I said carefully. "And Radar was a very good friend, to all of us. It hurts to think you might not see him again. I understand."

"No, you don't." His eyes were bitter, angry. "I hate one of the best guys I ever knew for going home when I can't, I hate myself for making a fool of myself everyday, and I- I hate God, too."

"I thought you were an atheist."

He sighed. "I don't even know what I am anymore."

I nodded in sympathy; the war had a tendency of doing a real number on a person's faith. "I'm a bad person," Klinger said miserably. "Aren't I?"

"I've never met anyone who's a good person," I said gently, "save Our Lord, of course."

"Yeah, I guess… but that's not…"

"I know what you meant." To myself, I wondered how I could possibly help the man. He was angry and resentful, and perhaps rightfully so, but if he continued on like this, he'd only end up consumed by his depression and bitterness.

The answer came quietly yet insistently, an idea that I almost instantly rejected, for fear of driving Klinger even further away. _No, Lord,_ I objected. _This isn't the right moment; it's too soon._ But the feeling on my heart didn't leave; if anything, it grew stronger, until I knew I had to broach the subject.

"Klinger," I said hesitantly, "everyone's done bad things. Some of the greatest of saints were also the greatest of sinners. Mary of Egypt, Moses the black, the great Augustine himself!" I leaned forward. "But do you know what they all had in common?"

"What?"

"They came back," I said, looking the man straight in the eyes.

Klinger swallowed, having caught on to my meaning. "Father, I can't do it. I can't make a confession. I just- I can't. I'm sorry."

"Why not?"

"Trust me, this is one confession you don't want to hear," he said darkly. "I mean, look at me, Father." He gestured to the pink evening dress. "You really think this is going to be quick and simple?"

"I don't want quick and simple; I want to help you," I urged. "Klinger, everyone has been where you are; everyone's done things they're ashamed of. But God welcomes us back to Himself."

"You really think God wants someone like me?" he demanded. "He wouldn't open up those Pearly Gates to me if I begged Him."

"Klinger, why on earth would you say something like that?" I said, aghast.

"Come on, Father, you know me!" he said emphatically. "I've spent the last two years doing everything possible I can to get out of the army, and whatever time I had left over just trying to make it bearable. I've cheated, lied, stolen, forged, wheedled and tricked. I've done stuff I would never admit to another living soul. Hell, Father, I wear _dresses!"_ He shook his head, eyes finding their way to the floor again, face full of a self-loathing I had never seen on his usual happy-go-lucky features. "I'm no saint, Father. And it's too late for someone like me to be someone like that."

"It's _not_ too late!" I insisted, perhaps more forcefully than I meant to. "Haven't you ever heard the story of the prodigal son?" Klinger glanced up hesitantly, still not lifting his head. "He thought the exact same thing. He said to himself, 'I could never be one of my father's sons again, but if I go back and ask to be one of his servants, then at least I'll have a roof over my head and food to eat.' He was tired of running. Aren't you?"

"Father, I can't do it," he answered. "You're the most decent guy I've ever met; if you knew some of the stuff I've done…" He shook his head, distressed. "Please, don't make me do it. I'll never be able to look you in the eyes again."

"Klinger, listen to me," I said. "I've been a military chaplain for two years, I was a priest back home in the states for six before that. I've heard more confessions than I can count; anything you could have to tell I've probably heard before." At his continued hesitance, I added, "I can promise you, no matter what you say I won't judge you for it. If the only thing preventing you from coming back to God is fear, at least allow me to put your fears to rest."

Klinger's eyes were still fixed on the floor. For a moment, neither of us said anything, before I said gently, "Klinger… in the parable, the father came running out to the man and embraced him with open arms, as one of his beloved sons." I put a hand on his shoulder. "Do you know why he did that?"

The clerk finally looked up at me, eyes swimming with tears. "Because he loved him," I said softly. "He loved him just as he was, no matter where he'd been, no matter what he'd done. All he'd ever wanted was for his son to come home."

A long silenced passed, before Klinger said in a low, barely audible voice, "You got a screen?"

My heart leapt with joy, but I answered as calmly as I was able, "No, but we can turn around, if that'll make it easier for you."

"Yeah, that'd help," he said, sounding slightly relieved. I was about to stand up when he said, "Wait, hold on." He took out his earrings and handed them to me. "There; that's as much as I can do right now."

I chuckled a bit despite myself. "Well, er, better late than never, I suppose. Are you ready?"

He nodded and turned the chair around. I did the same, turning in my desk chair until were both facing opposite directions.

"Father, I, uh, I don't know how to tell you some of this stuff," Klinger said nervously from behind me.

"That's alright," I said patiently, "I'll help you. We'll go down the Ten Commandments."

"Okay," he said, voice afraid yet determined.

I smiled a little to myself, taking my stole out of my pocket and kissing it. "Let's begin in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."

I heard him let out a shaky breath. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two years since my last confession…"

**M*A*S*H**

It was a while later, supper long since past, when Klinger finally left my little tent. I watched him cross the dirt road to his office/quarters in a way that I could only describe as _firmly disposed._

I smiled to myself and sat down to finish my breviary, when I noticed the earrings sitting beside it. Unsure what exactly he wanted to do with them now that- well, now that he no longer had any use for them, I scooped them into my hands and headed for the office.

Margaret was already standing outside, a look of irritation on her face; she tsked her tongue as I walked up. "Oh, I'm about to blow my top at Klinger; he hasn't gotten _any _of my paperwork done!"

"Take it easy on him, Major; he's been having a rough enough time with the adjustment."

"Well… I'm still going to tell him to get a move on." She walked into the office, and I followed her.

To her (but not my) utter shock, Klinger was sitting there at the desk in army drab, filling out forms. "Ah, most gracious Major, I was just filling out these requisition forms you gave me-"

"Klinger, what in the world are you wearing?" Margaret demanded, forgetting all about the paperwork.

He glanced down, pretending to be surprised. "I'm in uniform, Major; this is the army, after all."

She stared, baffled, and then shook her head. "Whatever scheme you've concocted, I don't want any part of it. You create your shenanigans on your own time, Corporal!" She turned and walked out, perplexed.

I watched her go, and then turned back to Klinger. "You forgot your earrings," I informed him, holding them out.

He glanced over at them, and then shrugged. "I don't need 'em anymore. Give them to someone else." He went back to filling out the forms.

I nodded and headed for the door. Just as I reached it, I heard him say, "Father?"

I glanced over my shoulder. "Yes?"

"…Thanks," he said, smiling. There was a peace about him that I'd never seen before, a peace I was glad to have had some part in delivering.

I smiled back. "Anytime, Klinger."

As I walked out of the office, Margaret caught me by the arm, still confused. "Did you have anything to do with that?" she demanded.

"With what?"

"What do you mean, with what? With his- his clothes! He's dressed in normal clothes! How did you make him do it?"

"Well I didn't 'make' him do anything; he did it himself."

"But how- what happened?"

I smiled slightly and said, "These earrings would look nice on you, Major." I dropped them into her hand and, leaving her to stand even more confused behind me, continued back to my tent.

_**17 **__Coming to his senses he thought, 'How many of my father's hired workers have more than enough food to eat, but here am I, dying from hunger. __**18 **__I shall get up and go to my father and I shall say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you._ _**19**_ _I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers."' __**20**_ _So he got up and went back to his father._

_While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion. He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him. __**21**_ _His son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son.'_

_**22**_ _But his father ordered his servants, 'Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet._ _**23**_ _Take the fattened calf and slaughter it. Then let us celebrate with a feast,_ _**24**_ _because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found.' Then the celebration began._


End file.
